Tears to Shed
by conchshells
Summary: Kyle wants to change the choices all of his friends made as they grew up. However, it's only making his problems even worse than theirs.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Stan**

There was something about this town that was…well, different. It just didn't make any sense. Five years ago, Kyle and his friends had had so many good times together; always going on a new and exciting adventure, where, at the end, Kyle usually had to end up saying, "You know, I learned something today…", and then give a big speech to get him and his three best friends out of trouble.

His best friends…Kyle remembered what it used to be like when they were just kids in fourth grade. It wasn't so easy now. Kyle was only fourteen and in eighth grade, but he had gone through more in his short life than any adult should ever have to. Maybe all of his friends had. Maybe that was why they all turned out the way they did…

Kyle was taking a walk to the park to clear his head. There was about three feet of snow covering the ground, but that's the way it always was in South Park. The wind was blowing lightly, but it still stung Kyle's almost frostbitten face. He zipped his orange jacket up further and fixed his hat on his head so that it would cover up his curly red hair.

'I hate my hair,' Kyle thought as he struggled to stuff a stray curl into his hat. When he got to the park, Kyle sat on one of the swings while still fighting with the piece of hair that seemed to be so persistent. Finally, he just gave up and let some of his auburn hair fall in his face. He just sat there, for who knows how long, thinking about nothing unparticular, until he heard a voice.

"Hey, dude," it was Stan Marsh, Kyle's best friend in the world.

"Hey, Stan," Kyle said, finally looking up. Stan had changed so much since they were little. He was standing in front of Kyle, his hands in the pockets of a brown jacket he was wearing. He also wore his blue hat that he had worn since preschool. The hat still had a very worn out red puffball on the top of it. That hat really didn't fit Stan's personality anymore, but he still wore it, probably just for sentimental reasons. Stan had black hair that sort of stuck out of the almost-too-small hat, and he was sort of tall for his age. He wasn't really any more athletic than any of the other boys in town. He stopped playing sports when they were in sixth grade. Right about when he started…well…

Stan sat down on the swing next to Kyle and sighed. "So, what's up, Kyle?" he asked.

"Not much," was all that Kyle said. He had a lot on his mind. Kyle looked over at Stan, then looked at his friend's hands, which he had taken out of his pockets to hold onto the chains of the swing. Stan wore wristbands on both arms…Kyle knew why. Stan was completely over the Goth phase he had gone through in fourth grade, but he was still sick. Stan had started cutting his wrists when he was really depressed about three years ago. Kyle had gotten into a fight with his friend when he found out, but had given up completely after Stan broke down crying and admitted to his friend that he knew he was sick and needed help. Kyle had spent all that night with Stan, soothing him and telling him everything was going to be all right. The next day, Kyle had taken Stan to a professional and gotten him some help. It worked for a little while, but then Stan's mother was diagnosed with cancer and died about a year later, and he started cutting again.

Stan noticed Kyle looking at his wrists, and he quickly stuck them back in the pockets of his jacket. Kyle slowly looked away from his friend and gazed down at his snow boots. Stan did the same and felt his face turn red. He was embarrassed when he remembered what he did almost all the time, and angry at himself for doing it. Kyle continued looking down at his boots. He was thinking about what the angel faced, innocent (okay, maybe not _completely _innocent), children he used to know had become.

"Stan, what happened to us?" Kyle asked his friend quietly. He felt like crying. Stan looked up, a little confused by his question at first, but then answered.

"…I don't know, dude." he said. Even though Kyle's question had been a little vague, Stan knew that he was talking not just about them, but all of the people that they knew. "I guess we all were just forced to grow up too quickly… I-I don't know what to say."

Kyle looked up from his boots to meet Stan's eyes. The blue eyes that used to be so bright and full of life were now cold and almost dead looking…the eyes of an old man. Kyle looked down again, staring at his boots. He felt tears start to form in his eyes. The wind that was blowing directly in his face wasn't helping him hide it too much, either. Kyle sniffled. He felt Stan's eyes on him.

"I'll-I'll talk to you later, Stan. I've just…I've gotta go think for a little while." Kyle got up and started towards his home before Stan even had time to answer.

Kyle walked against the wind to get to his house. He put his arms around himself in a sort of hug to keep warm. Hot tears stung his face as he walked. By the time Kyle had gotten to his house, his mom and dad had left for work. Since it was a Saturday, Kyle didn't have to go to school. He walked into his house, and didn't even acknowledge the fact of how much warmer it was in there than it was outside. He simply took his coat off and let it fall to the ground instead of bothering to hang it up. He thought about taking his hat off, but he changed his mind.

Kyle trudged up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed onto his bed with his face in his hands and let himself cry freely. There was nobody watching him, so why not? Kyle thought about Stan and how much it must hurt when he cuts himself. Kyle could _never _do that. He could never really take any kind of pain, and that would just be too much for him.

Kyle wanted Stan to get more help. He didn't want him hurting himself anymore. He just wanted things to go back to normal. He wanted his childhood back. He sobbed into his hands. "Wha-What the hell happened to m-my childhood, huh! It's n-not fucking f-fair! It's not fair, god dammit!" Kyle wanted so badly to be eight years old again. He wanted all of his friends to be eight again. Maybe then he could stop them from becoming what they were now. They all had so many different problems… Stan wasn't even the worst of them. There were so many others…

While he thought about Stan, his thoughts slowly moved to his other friends. Kenny. How long had it been? Four years maybe? Yes, that was it. Four years it had been since Kenny stopped coming back to life. That unexplainable phenomenon just stopped one day. Kyle wiped his wet, red eyes, and laid down on his back to let his thoughts travel back to that day.


	2. Chapter 2

Woohoo! I actually got reveiws! Yessss! Ok...so now I'm gonna say thank you to Grando181, InnuendoLuva, and sara-isnt for actually revewing my story!Thanks, people! I luv you all!

Ok, so this chapter ismostly a flash backto 4years ago that really bothers Kyle.Kyle's been feeling really crappy lately and can't figure out why...it's kinda weird, just read:-D Oh yeah, and i forgot the disclaimer thingy last time!

**Disclaimer: **This thing is so retarded...I don't own South Park or any of that, retard!

**Chapter Two: Kenny**

"Hey Stan! Stan, I'm wide open!" a ten year old Kyle Broflovski yelled to his friend. Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman were playing basketball after school one day. Stan had the ball, and Cartman was defending him.

"Come on, Stan! It's not _that _difficult to get passed that fat ass!" Kyle said, this time grinning.

"AY! Shut the hell up, you stupid Jew!" Cartman yelled as he whirled around to look at Kyle. That's when Stan got the chance to slip past him. He did it with absolutely no trouble, and made a lay-up that won the game for him and Kyle.

"Yes! Did you see that, dude?" Stan asked Kyle.

"Yeah, man! That was awesome!"

"No way, butt pipes! You two totally cheated!" Cartman yelled at the two friends. "And Kenny," he pointed a fat finger at the hooded child who was laughing along with the other two. "What the hell is wrong with you, you fucking poor-ass piece of crap!"

"Me!" Kenny's muffled voice sounded out. "What do you mean _me_? _You_ were the one who's so goddamn stupid that you'd actually turn around when you're supposed to be defending!"

"Okay, guys. That's enough!" Stan interjected. Luckily, both of the boys gave up and simply turned away from each other and crossed their arms. "Besides," he said with a big smile forming on his face, "You two both know that me and Kyle would have annihilated _both _your sorry asses even if Cartman _hadn't _been such a retard!" he burst out laughing, and so did Kyle. Kenny, being the sort of person that he was, also started laughing hysterically. Cartman, however, was not so easily swayed.

"Shut up, you stupid hippie!" the fat kid yelled. "You totally suck at basketball, and I only turned around because I felt bad for you and thought I'd let you win one for a change!" All three of the other boys stopped laughing. They looked at each other for a moment, and then burst out again. "That's it!" Cartman yelled. "You guys are assholes! Screw you guys, I'm-a goin' hoooome!"

That's when it happened.

Cartman stomped away from his 'friends' to collect his things before he left, and before he picked up his backpack, he leaned over and unzipped it. He started rummaging around in it a little bit with his back to the others as if he didn't want them to see exactly what it was he was looking for.

"Cartman, what the hell are you doing?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah, fat ass," Kenny said. "I thought you said 'you're-a goin hoooome'!" Carman didn't say anything. He continued to search through his bag, and then stopped. He dropped the bag on the ground and turned around to face the other boys with his hands behind his back. There was a wide smile on his face.

"What, did you find a twinkie or something, fat ass?" Kenny asked. Although you couldn't really see it, you could tell that he was smiling.

"You know, Kenny," Cartman said with the same smile still plastered to his chubby face. "There was a time when your petty insults would have bothered me…" he slowly started to pull his hands out from behind his back. In them he held a gun, and he was pointing it at Kenny's chest. "But that was before you were dead, you poor piece of crap!"

"Cartman!" Kyle screamed. "What the hell are you doing!" Stan couldn't say anything. He was staring at the gun in shock. Cartman had done some pretty low things before, but never had he killed someone.

Cartman just continued to smile. "What? He'll come back to life! He always does! I just want the pleasure of killing that poor piece of shit!" and before any of the other boys had said anything, he emptied one shot into Kenny's chest, and two more into his stomach.

BANG! BANG, BANG!

"God dammit!" Kenny yelled as he clutched his stomach and fell to his knees. "That fucking hurts, you asshole!" Tears started forming in the ten-year-old boy's eyes and fell outthe hood of his orange parka. "Dammit!" he repeated in a still muffled voice, whilestill holding onto himself. He was bleeding all over the pavement. "I can't breathe! Guys! I mean it, I can't fucking breathe!"

Kyle ran over to Kenny, Stan was still in shock over what had just happened. Kyle quickly helped Kenny take his orange hood off, revealing messy blonde hair and a tear-stained face. Stan suddenly realized that what was happening was completely real, and rushed over to Kenny.

"Kenny!" Stan yelled. "Jesus Christ! Are you okay!" he realized how stupid this question was, and smacked himself in the forehead. He then turned to Cartman. "What the hell, you fucking queer bait! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS!" he motioned towards Kenny as he said it. The blonde boy was still on his knees coughing up blood now, Kyle sitting next to him and trying to make him feel better in any way he could.

"What do you mean, Stan?" Cartman asked. "You know damn well that he'll just come back tomorrow! Why the fuck are you acting like this hasn't happened before! _You're _responsible for at least twelve of his deaths, so why can't I kill him once without getting bitched at!"

Stan just stared at the fat boy for a few seconds. He had been responsible for a few of Kenny's deaths… and so had Kyle. But none of those times had been like _this_. Neither of them had ever actually _meant_ to harm Kenny.

Kyle had been listening the whole time, while at the same time consoling a now bawling Kenny, who was practically kneeling in a pool of his own blood. Kyle had taken his friend's parka off to wrap it around the wounds. Kyle stood up from Kenny and motioned for Stan to go take care of him. He did, and Kyle walked up to Cartman.

"You fucking fat ass," Kyle said calmly but viciously at the same time. "You fucking know that neither me or Stan would _ever_ purposely kill Kenny!" he was getting angrier now. "You can't use his fucking…his-his… whatever the hell it is, for your own sick pleasure, you asshole!" Cartman just looked at Kyle. He didn't know what to say. He really hadn't thought that this would be that big of a deal. Kenny died all the time.

"What the fuck!" Cartman yelled. "He's just going to come back to life tomorrow anyways! I'm seriously! I don't see the big fucking problem here!"

Suddenly, Kenny started coughing much harder than before and spitting up larger amounts of blood. Kyle turned around and looked down at his friend. He looked like he was going to die any second now. Kyle ran over to him and Stan, and kneeled down next to Kenny the way Stan was.

"I don't know what the fuck to do, dude!" Stan screamed frantically. He looked like he wanted to cry. Kyle looked away from him to Kenny. The boy's eyes were red from crying, and his face was red from spitting up so much blood. His arms that were wrapped around his body were red and dripping with blood, and so was the parka wrapped around his midsection. Kyle didn't know what to do, either. He just grabbed his friend into a hug. A comforting hug to make him feel like everything was going to be okay. Stan just sat and watched. He didn't know what to do. Kyle started to cry. He really couldn't figure out why. Kenny had died in much more painful ways than this before. It was odd. He felt like it was different this time… like it was real this time.

"Y-you…" Kenny started, still looking down at the ground and holding himself while Kyle did the same. He coughed up a little more blood, and then looked up at Cartman. "You fucking… f-fat ass! Just w-wait till I-I come back t-tom-tomorr-" he stopped suddenly. His eyes went from being so swollen that they were almost closed, to wide open. His light blue eyes showed fear, as if he knew something that nobody else knew. Kenny turned to look at Stan, who was still just sitting there, not knowing what to do. Then he looked at Kyle, who was still holding him in a protective hug.

Kyle looked back into Kenny's wide, frightened eyes. He knew what was happening. He knew what Kenny knew. His eyes said it all…_ I'm not coming back this time._ Kyle's eyes grew wide as well.

"K-Kenny?" he whispered. Kenny just continued looking at him. His mouth moved up and down as if he was trying to talk but didn't know what to say. There were blood stains on his face and in his hair. He was still clutching his own stomach, and Kyle was still holding him; trying to keep Death away from his friend.

Kenny looked away from Kyle to Cartman, who had just been watching this the whole entire time with a stupid, confused look on his face. Cartman just looked back at Kenny.

"Cartm...E-Eric?" Kenny managed to whisper. "W-why?" was all he could manage to get out. Cartman tried to say something, but nothing came out. Kenny started to shake uncontrollably, still looking straight into Cartman's eyes. And then Kyle felt the boy's body go limp. The blonde boy's head fell onto his chest, and he stopped holding onto his wounded stomach. Kyle squeezed him tighter, like it would somehow bring him back if he held on as tight as he could. But he knew that he wouldn't. Kyle started to cry loudly, while still holding on tightly to his dead friend's body.

Stan was still watching this, and suddenly he realized that what had just happened was for real this time. Then he whispered for what would be the last time, "Oh my God…he _killed _Kenny."

Kyle was looking down at all of the blood on the ground, still crying, still holding onto his friend. He stopped crying for a second and sniffled. He first looked up at Stan with swollen, red eyes, and after realizing what he had said, looked at Kenny. His chin was leaning into his own chest, his eyes had somehow closed. Kyle loosened his grip on the Kenny's body and tilted the boy's head back. His mouth was slightly opened, and a stream of blood was leaking out. Slowly, Kyle lowered his friend to the ground, and shut his own eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, Kyle's eyes snapped back open, and he turned to the fat boy who was still holding a gun in his hand. Kyle stood up.

"Y-you b-bastard!" he cried. Kyle balled his hands into fists and started towards Cartman. "You fucking bastard! You killed him! His dead! Look what you've done you fucking fat ass!" he pointed to Kenny as he said this. Stan was still on his knees and looking down at Kenny's body. Cartman looked at him, too. He realized what he had done.

"…Oh-oh my God," Cartman stammered. "I-I've killed him? But, he-he can't die. He can't die, Kyle! He's died a million times before, and he always came back! He'll come back! He'll fucking come back!" Cartman was saying this more to convince himself than to convince Kyle.

"Not this time," Kyle said quietly and slowly.

And then, Cartman did something he'd never done before…he cried. He had cried before, but it was never a real cry. It was always a fake cry to get something that he wanted or to get somebody to feel bad for him. This was a real cry. It was the most heart wrenching cry Kyle had ever heard. It started out small, just a few sniffles and sobs, and then it turned into all out bawling. Cartman's eyes watered, and he screamed. He screamed, "NO! NO! NO! NO!" over and over again, trying to make it all not real. The fat boy dropped the gun he had been holding in his hands the whole time, and brought his hands to his face. Then he turned and ran. Kyle just stared after him, not really believing what he had just seen. Cartman could cry? Perhaps he was human after all…

No. He wasn't human. He was a murderer. He had killed Kenny. Kyle turned back around to look at Stan, who was now holding Kenny's hand in his and putting two of his fingers on his dead friend's wrist. (Stan's own wrists were still perfectly clean at this point; no cuts, no wristbands.) Kyle started to walk over to him.

"Stan…" he said in an almost whisper. Stan didn't look up. He just held onto Kenny's hand, and kept his fingers firmly in place on his wrist. "Stan, he-he's dead. Come on, we have to call the police or something. Come on, dude we have to tell someone." Stan still didn't move. He hardly even breathed. Kyle was now worried about Stan. He knew he had to get him away from Kenny's body somehow. "Hey, if we hurry up and get to the police station, then we can tell them that Cartman killed Kenny, and then Cartman will be locked up for good. It was fucked up of that fat ass to do this, and we have to go tell someone before--"

"HE ISN'T DEAD, KYLE!" Stan suddenly screamed. It was so sudden that it made Kyle jump. Stan was now looking up at Kyle with anger in his eyes. As soon as he realized what he had just done, his face went from furious to depressed. "He can't be dead…he just can't…"

Kyle put a hand on Stan's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. "Come on, Stan," he whispered. "We have to go now."

--------------------------------

Kyle snapped out of his memories, and was still lying on his bed, new tears forming in his green eyes. The tears weren't only from the memory he had just relived, but also from a horrible throbbing pain in his head. He guessed it was just from stressing out too much about school and stuff. Kyle hated headaches, and hated them even more when nothing could make the pain stop. Asprin, calm music, nothing helped. Kyle tried to ignore his pain and remembered again about Kenny. Ever since that day, Cartman had been in juvenile hall. Kyle and Stan had decided to turn him in. Neither of them had seen or talked to him since.

Kyle missed Kenny. He was his only other good friend, aside from Stan. Cartman didn't count as a friend, especially since he was still in juvenile hall to this day. Kyle bolted upright in his bed. He realized what he had to do. He didn't want to just keep on thinking about how horrible his and all of his friends' lives were; he wanted to do something about it.

Kyle ran down the stairs, each step hurting his head even more, while completely ignoring his adopted Canadian brother, Ike, who had come home from a friend's and was now playing video games. Kyle picked his jacket up from off the floor and quickly put it on.

"Ike," Kyle said, now turning his attention to the black-haired nine-year-old in the living room. "If mom and dad come home, just tell them I'm at Stan's, okay? I might not be back tonight, so that's where I'll be." he didn't know for sure if this was the truth, but it always worked anyway. Besides, Kyle didn't feel like dealing with his that kid right then...his head hurt too much.

Ike paused his video game and turned around on the couch. The boy hopped right over the back of the couch, ran up to his brother, and stuck his hand in his face.

"Ten bucks, Kyle," Ike said with a huge smile on his face.

"What!" Kyle said.

"Ten bucks," Ike said slowly. "I know you're not really going to Stan's, and if you don't pay me, I'll not only tell mom and dad that, I'll also tell dad about how it wasn't _really _the Mexicans who stole his--'secret magazines'--it was YOU!" the small boy's grin grew even wider when he said this. Kyle was at a loss for words. He was gaping at the Canadian kid in shock.

"You wouldn't dare…" he finally said, the pain in his skull increasing.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" Ike retorted. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't!"

"Well, there was that time when you…no, that was Stan…Oh! There was that--oh, nope, that was Stan too…hmmm…" Kyle thought for a moment, the thinking hurting his head, and then finally said, "I saved you from the visitors, you little butt pipe! If it hadn't been for me, you'd still be up in that spaceship right now, probably being molested every waking hour of your pathetic little life by those aliens!"

Ike thought about this for a moment. "Whatever, I still want ten dollars or I'll tell dad, penis butt!" Kyle was angry, but he paid Ike anyway, again not wanting to deal with the kid while he felt this bad. He pulled ten dollars out of his wallet and handed it to his brother.

"You're not even my real brother, Ike!" Kyle yelled as he walked out the door. "You're adopted and your parents don't love you!" he added, just to make the boy feel even worse.

Kyle felt better after harassing his brother. For some reason, that always made him feel better. However, he was not feeling at all better about his life in general. He kept on constantly getting those agonizing headaches that just refused to stop. If it didn't stop soon, he thought he might shoot his brains out. His head throbbed and he rubbed his temple with one of his gloved hands. He was on his way to Tweek's house.

* * *

Author's note:

omg...I know! I am so mean to Cartman in this one! Oh well, he might have a part later, so whatever. Anyway, incase some people didn't get it, yes there was a flashback in the beginning, just so that you understand that! And the headaches may be important, may not be important. It depends on how I feel when I write the following chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

Yes! I'm so happy people like this story so much! In fact I'm so happy that I wrote this new chapter! Woohoo! Okay, so first of all, I'm gonna say thanks again to the people who reveiwed on the last chapter: flores para los muertos, Coffeey (Yes, cutting yourself would probably hurt...and Cartman is a bastard hehe), and InnuendoLuva! I LOVE you all!

Okay, so it gets a little bit freaky in this chapter, but try to stay with me. There'll be author's notes at the end incase you didn't get something, and don't forget to reveiw if something confuses you, too!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own South Park.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Insanity**

Kyle was almost to Tweek's house now, his head still pounding. He hadn't really talked to Tweek for a long time... Tweek had started to hang out with some kids that were a couple of years older than him and he just kind of stopped hanging out with kids his own age.

Although Kyle hadn't been to Tweek's house in a while, anyone with half a brain could tell that they were getting close when they smelled the strong scent of coffee in the air. Usually, Kyle would have liked the smell. However, today it was too strong and it just made his head feel worse for some reason.

Kyle approached the door of Tweek's house slowly. It had been so long...he wondered if Tweek would be too scared to open the door anyway. That kid was really weird. Kyle knocked lightly on the door. He heard footsteps running down the stairs, and some locks being undone, then the door swung open and there stood a fourteen-year-old Tweek. He looked almost the same as he had in elementary school, except now he was much taller. Kyle thought he might be the tallest kid in their grade. He also looked really skinny and pale for some reason. There were bags under his eyes and he had sort of sunken in cheeks. He kind of resembled a skeleton. He still wore a shirt that had buttons, but that were buttoned improperly so that you could see parts of his stomach. His blonde hair was far worse than it had been before, too. It was much messier and a little bit longer. Tweek twitched and shut his left eye completely as he opened the door.

"Did you bring the stuff, man! AH!" he said in a high-pitched voice, clearly expecting someone other than Kyle. He seemed a little bit frightened when he looked and saw Kyle standing there.

"Umm...no," Kyle began, "But can I come in anyway?"

"...Why?" Tweek asked nervously, starting to shake a little bit. But that was normal for him.

"Tweek, I want to talk to you about, well...you," Kyle said, not really knowing how to say what he wanted to. He did want to talk to Tweek about Tweek, but also about all the other kids, too.

"AH! That's really weird, man!" Tweek shrieked in that same high-pitched voice.

"Tweek, seriously, I need to talk to you!" Kyle said, getting a little irritated at the twitching boy now. His head throbbed painfully as his voice rose. Tweek looked a little bit frightened by Kyle's sudden outburst.

"Man, that is way too much pressure! If you don't yell, then you can come in for like a minute!" Tweek said as he left the door open and turned his back on Kyle, pulling chunks of his own hair out as he walked up the stairs. Kyle followed him.

Once the two boys were in Tweek's room, Tweek sat on his bed and pointed to a chair by a computer sitting on top of a desk. "Sit there!" he said, not trying to sound angry, but shreiking like he always did. "Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Kyle sighed. "Well, I've been thinking a lot lately, you know, about how we all used to hang out and have so much fun when we were kids." Kyle looked at Tweek for some sign that he knew where Kyle was going with this. There was nothing but a little more twitching, so he continued. "And I thought that maybe if I talked to everyone, then they could get some...help...or something."

"AH! No way man! You are NOT gonna put me in rehab!" Tweek screamed, starting to shake more violently. He jumped up off of his bed and started to head for his bedroom door.

"Tweek, calm down!" Kyle said. He got up and grabbed Tweek's wrist so that he couldn't get out. As Kyle grabbed the boy's arm, his shirt sleeve was pushed up and Kyle felt something strange on his skin. Tweek realized that Kyle had felt this and wrenched his arm from the Kyle's grasp. Tweek just twitched for a few moments, still holding his own arm, and then looked down at his feet.

"...Tweek?" Kyle said in a concerned voice. Everyone knew that Tweek smoked pot, but nobody knew anything about him using needles for anything. "Tweek," he said in a more stern voice. Tweek didn't look up. He was still holding his arm, now rubbing the spot Kyle had felt the bumbs on.

"...I-I didn't know what to do when they asked me if I wanted to try it," Tweek said in a frighteningly calm voice, especially for him. "I just did it 'cause I didn't want them to kick me out...I don't h-have anywhere else to go. I left you guys...I guess-I guess I figured you'd never take me back after that..." Tweek leaned back against his closed door and slid to the floor, still holding onto his arm. He started to cry.

"Tweek, it's-it's alright," Kyle said looking down at the shaking boy. "We'll take you back, you don't have to worry about that." he sat on his knees across from Tweek and took his arm. Tweek didn't resist. He just let Kyle take it. Kyle slid back Tweek's sleeve and saw little tiny red and blue marks all over his arm.

"K-Kyle?" Tweek said. "C-can I t-tell you something?"

"Sure, dude," Kyle said, trying to sound cheerful for Tweek's sake, but not succeeding.

"I-I...umm...I've used a lot of needles and...well..." he sounded as if he didn't know whether or not he should tell Kyle.

"It's okay, Tweek. Anything you tell me will stay a secret. I swear. You can tell me." he smiled, but it was sort of a sympathy smile.

"Kyle, I...I used this guy's needle and-and I contracted HIV...I didn't find out soon enough...and-and...it...it developed into AIDS..." he said. He looked away from Kyle, who was still holding on to his arm, and started to cry even harder. Kyle's jaw dropped and his skull pounded painfully. That must have been why he was so skinny. The kid was sick. Really sick.

"Tweek..." Kyle said, letting Tweek's arm slip from his hands and not even noticing it. Tweek sobbed even harder at this, and hugged his knees against his chest. "But-but if you're really sick, then why do you keep doing drugs, Tweek?" Kyle asked quietly, staring right into Tweek's eyes. "They'll just make you even sicker! Don't you want to get better!" his voice was rising now.

"D-don't you g-get it, Kyle?" Tweek cried, still sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. "I-I'm gonna d-die! I'm g-gonna die, and I-I want to enjoy wh-what little bit of m-my life I h-have left!" Kyle stood up and looked down at Tweek.

"You don't have to die!" he screamed at the boy, his hands balled into fists and his head still poudning. "And you can enjoy life without drugs, Tweek! The drugs are NOT going to help you fight this!" he wiped his eye with one hand, and continued to look down at the boy, breathing heavy.

"K-Kyle..." Tweek started.

"NO!" Kyle interrupted. "I'm not gonna stand by now and let you throw your life away! You can beat this, Tweek! And you need to start by going to the hospital and getting the RIGHT drugs to help you get better!"

"Kyle," Tweek said, "Kyle, there's n-no cure for this," Tweek said quietly, now looking up at Kyle with tears in his brown eyes. He was still shaking and Kyle could not only see it, but hear it in his voice as well.

"Don't give me that, Tweek! Other people have done it, so why can't you!" Kyle was outraged now. His head was throbbing horribly. He didn't know if he could take it anymore.

"I don't th-think very m-many people h-have beaten this, K-Kyle," Tweek said in that still shaky and quiet voice.

Kyle screamed loudly. It wasn't really so much Tweek that was making him angry as it was this headache. For some reason, Kyle started to take his pain and frustration out on Tweek. He grabbed his own head and kept his hands there.

"SHUT UP, TWEEK!" he screamed. "JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP! WE'RE GOING TO THE HOSPITAL TO GET YOU THE RIGHT FUCKING DRUGS, AND WE'RE GOING NOW!"

Tweek looked hurt by Kyle's sudden outrage. He didn't know what he had done to make him so angry.

"Kyle, AH!" he twitched and his left eye closed for a second as he said this, "The doctors h-have already done all they can. Th-they gave me tons of m-medicine, but took me off most of it b-because they know I'm not gonna l-last long, and my parents c-can't afford it anyway. AH!" he twitched again.

Kyle screamed again. His head hurt so badly. In one second of pain, Kyle actually wished that Tweek was dead so that he wouldn't have to put up with this. He wanted it to stop, and some part of him told him that the only way to make it stop was to get rid of the biggest stress he had in _his _life right now--his _friends' _lives. He didn't know exactly what he was doing, but it seemed as though he didn't have to think anyway. His body was doing it all for him. Kyle's body forced him to turn around and start searching the room for something--anything--that might help him with what he knew had to be done. He saw it.

Kyle's legs carried him over to Tweek's bed, and he fell to his knees as he looked under it. There was a syringe lying just a little ways in. Kyle reached under the bed and picked it up. He stood up, examining the needle in his hands. It was empty and clean, so Tweek had most likely not used it yet. Suddenly, Kyle _completely _lost control of his body. He watched as one of his hands held the syringe and the other pulled the bottom up, sucking air into it. He watched his feet as they travelled over to where Tweek (who had completely forgotten about Kyle) was still sitting, hugging his knees while crying.

"Tweek," he heard himself say. There was a strange glint in his green eyes. His mouth was forced into a wicked smile. Tweek looked up at Kyle, who had felt his hands hide the syringe behind his back. "Tweek, do you _want _to die?" Kyle heard himself speak again. Tweek looked confused.

"...W-well, sort of," Tweek started. "You know, to g-get away f-from this sick b-body and stuff. But I-I don't really w-want this sickness t-to kill me. It-it's like I wanna d-die, but I-I don't..."

_'What the fuck is going on?'_ Kyle thought. '_Why the hell can't I feel my body! What's happening!' _

_'Would you shut up for a minute!' _Kyle heard a voice say inside his head. It sounded just like him.

_'Who the fuck are you!' _Kyle asked inside of his own head.

_'I'm you, retard!' _the voice said. _'I'm that part of you that used to love going hunting and shooting things when you were little. That part of you that liked to burn things. That side of you that didn't like to put up with other peoples' shit. The side that wants revenge. I'm that side of you that you didn't want anybody to see, and now it's my turn to control you!'_

_'What!' _Kyle thought. _'You can't take over my fucking body like this! I can't be insane! I'M NOT INSANE! You can't do this!'_

_'Oh, can't I?' _the Kyle-like voice said. _'Watch me.'_

Tweek was still talking about what he thought about dying when Kyle heard the voice that sounded just like him speaking outside of his body. "...and so I-I guess I really d-do sort of want t-to die. AH!" Tweek finished speaking and looked up at Kyle, just noticing for the first time that he had an odd smile on his face. "K-Kyle? What are you smiling at?"

"Oh, nothing, Tweek," anti-Kyle said, although he was still smiling. Kyle felt anti-Kyle tighten his grip on the syringe he was still holding behind his back. "So, what you're saying is, that if someone were to kill you that you'd actually be thankful to them?"

Kyle suddenly realized what anti-Kyle was going to do. _'NO! Don't even fucking think about it, you bastard!' _Kyle said inside of his head. Anti-Kyle completely ignored him. Kyle saw the syringe come out from behind his back, but could do nothing to control his hands so that he could get rid of it.

"Tweek," anti-Kyle said calmly and slowly. "Do you want me to kill you?" the smile on anti-Kyle's face grew even wider at this. The strange look in his eye was still there, too.

"Wh-what! AH!" Tweek shrieked, and then twitched. "What are you talking about!"

"Do you want me to kill you?" anti-Kyle asked even more slowly this time.

_'NO! TWEEK, NO!' _Kyle tried to speak, but he couldn't.

_'Yeah, like he can hear you,'_ anti-Kyle said in Kyle's head.

_'Don't you even touch him, you fucking asshole!'_ Kyle thought to anti-Kyle. Kyle heard anti-Kyle laugh inside of his head.

"Well, Tweek?" anti-Kyle said.

"N-no!" Tweek shreiked at anti-Kyle, who he still thought was Kyle. Anti-Kyle's already huge grin just grew even more.

"Awww," anti-Kyle said in a mock sad voice. "Well that's too bad-" he moved forward so quickly that Tweek didn't even have time to move. The needle sank directly into the vein Tweek used most often to shoot up drugs. "-because I just did." Anti-Kyle pushed the end up the syringe up, pumping nothing but air into Tweek's vein. Tweek's eyes opened wide and looked up into anti-Kyle's eyes. It was only in that moment that he realized this derranged maniac was _not_ Kyle.

"K-Kyle," Tweek said as he started to fall on his side. Anti-Kyle pulled the needle out of Tweek's vein and let him fall. "Y-you r-really _can _beat it, Kyle." Tweek said.

_'Tweek!'_ Kyle tried to scream, but only ended up thinking. _'You bastard! You fucking bastard! You killed him!'_

_'Don't you see, Kyle?'_ anti-Kyle said. _'I had to kill him. I had to kill him because he was just going to do it to himself anyway. You see, I'm just here to speed up the process.' _he laughed a horrible, evil laugh.

_'What!'_ Kyle thought. _'That's fucking stupid! He could have lived! He could have beat his illness, I know he could have! Just like--'_

_'Just like Stan?' _anti-Kyle interrupted.

_'Stan is going to get more help soon!' _Kyle protested.

"No he's not!" anti-Kyle said, this time out of Kyle's body. "You don't get it, Kyle! You don't fucking get it! I'm helping these kids by killing them! They're just going to do it to themselves anyway, so I'm making it less painful!"

"What do you mean 'these kids'!" Kyle asked, this time out of his mouth as well. Anti-Kyle fell on the carpeted floor of Tweek's bedroom, and tried to crawl to Tweek's dresser. He pulled Kyle's body up so that he could look into the mirror. When he saw his reflection, he smiled that evil, toothy grin.

"I'm going to kill them all, Kyle," he said, breathing heavily from the struggle. He knew that Kyle was trying to get out, and he wasn't putting up as much of a fight now that Tweek was dead. He smiled even wider. "_We're _going to kill them all! Both of us!"

"I'm not going to fucking kill anybody!" Kyle screamed. It looked as though Kyle was talking to his reflection, but it was anti-Kyle. Kyle started to regain the feeling in all of his limbs. He could wiggle his fingers and toes a little bit now. Kyle looked up into the mirror again. "I'M NOT GOING TO KILL ANYBODY!"

"Oh, but Kyle," his reflection (anti-Kyle) said to him, grinning. "You already have." His eyes darted to the reflection of Tweek's body in the mirror. Kyle turned away from the mirror to look at Tweek. His eyes were still open. Kyle ran over to the dead boy and fell to his knees next to him. He closed Tweek's eyes, and then went back to the mirror.

"I did NOT kill him!" Kyle screamed at his own reflection. It just smiled back at him. "YOU killed him!"

"I couldn't have killed him if you didn't want me to!" anti-Kyle yelled back at Kyle. Kyle just stared. He was confused.

"What do you mean?" Kyle asked. "You wouldn't let me control my body!"

"I couldn't even have come out of your body if some part of you hadn't really, really wanted me to," anti-Kyle said with that grin still stuck to his face. "The only way I could ever have done something like that was if at some point in your pathetic little excuse for a life you had _wanted_ that boy dead. At some point or another, you wanted to see his body rotting away in a coffin somewhere. And at some point in your life, you have wanted every single one of the other people in your life dead. All of the ones that I'm going to kill no matter what you do. Even Stan."

"What!" Kyle yelled at the mirror. "I've _never_ wanted Stan dead! He's my best friend! I don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"Think back to fifth grade, Kyle," anti-Kyle said from the mirror with a grin. "Do you remember the going away dance for the elementary schoolers? You were all going away to middle school, and there was that big dance. But since Wendy broke up with Stan in fourth grade, he didn't have a date. He asked Bebe out even though he _knew_ that you wanted to, 'cause you had told him the day before. You didn't go to that dance because you were so fucking pissed at Stan. Remember now, Kyle?"

Kyle's jaw dropped. It was true; he _had_ wished that Stan was dead that day. "No," Kyle said as he remembered all the other times he'd wished his other friends were dead. "No!"

"Yes!" anti-Kyle said. "Every single time you sat and wondered what your life would be like if your friends were dead, I got stronger and stronger, until I was strong enough to come out. You wished for a split second that Tweek was dead, and that was enough for me. Now they're all going to pay for what they did to you, Kyle! For what they did to _us_!"

"I don't want them to pay!" Kyle screamed with tears in his eyes. "When people wish that other people are dead, they don't actually mean it! It's just something to say when they're really angry! I don't want them dead!" He started to cry.

"It doesn't matter, Kyle," anti-Kyle said, not smiling anymore. "_I _don't forgive as easily as you, and _I _want them dead! Each and every one of them is going to pay."

Kyle felt his body collapse onto the ground. He was shaking terribly. He held his hand out in front of him and flexed his fingers. Slowly, he pulled himself up off of the ground and tried to walk. He was okay. Anti-Kyle was gone...for now.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Okay...I do realize that was a little bit weird, so I'll try to make it easier to understand if you didn't quite get it. Anti-Kyle is the darkside of Kyle that he didn't want anybody to see. He only wanted people to see his good side. Well, actually his_ parents_ wanted him to show only his good side, so in that way he was pressured into growing up too fast. Anti-Kyle is the Kyle that's pissed off because he didn't want to grow up yet, so now he wants revenge. Anti-Kyle is also really pissed off because he was forced further and further into Kyle's mind as Kyle grew up. So now that he is able to take over Kyle's body, he sorta wants revenge on all the people who forced him to live in the back of Kyle's mind for all that time. So in a way, I guess you could say that Kyle is suffering from schizophrenia. I hope that sorta cleared a few things up for you. If you don't get something, just ask in a reveiw or something. Thanks:-D


	4. Chapter 4

Ok...I know I sort of took a lot longer to update this one than the last couple of chapters, but I wasn't really getting any reviews and I was gonna pull it out but then I got 2! Yippie! Hey, that's good enough for me! So thanks to **kittykyle **and **Coffeey** for reveiwing! I heart you guys! Ok, so this one is kind of violent, not really, but a little bit. So on with the chapter!

**Disclaimer: **No...I still don't own South Park.

* * *

**Chapter four:**

Kyle was back at his own house now, crying his eyes out in his room. He didn't really know what to think about what had just happened at Tweek's house. What he had done...

_"Maybe I really _am _crazy,"_ he thought. _"But I can't be crazy! I'm perfectly sane! There's nothing wrong with me!" _he thought about this for a little while longer.

"If I just don't let _him_ get out again, then maybe I can save everybody," he said outloud to himself. "Yeah, that's it. I just won't let him get out again!" Right after he said this, Kyle heard insane laughter in his mind. He wrapped his arms around his head.

"Shut up!" he screamed.

_"You can't keep me in here forever, Kyle," _the voice that sounded just like him said. _"I'll never be gone...not until every single one of them is gone. And after that, I'll still be here, waiting for someone else to come along and piss you off!" _

"I hate you!" Kyle screamed, still holding onto his head.

"Kyle?" a voice sounded from outside his room. Kyle let go of his head and looked at his door.

"Y-yeah?" he called back.

"Mom just called and said she won't be back tonight 'cause of some meeting thing in Denver!" it was Ike. "She said she's staying at a hotel, and dad won't be back either 'cause of that gay ass business trip thing!"

"Okay, Ike!" Kyle said.

"Hey, Kyle?" Ike started up again from outside of Kyle's bedroom door.

"_What, _Ike?" Kyle yelled.

"Why were you screaming?"

Kyle didn't move for a moment. He just wished that Ike would shut up and go away. He didn't know what to say to him right now. He was about to wish that he didn't have a brother, but he stopped. He knew that he couldn't think that or else...or else...

_"It's too late, Kyle!" _that voice sounded in his head again. _"You already thought it! This isn't the first time, either!" _Anti-Kyle laughed the most evil laugh Kyle had heard from him yet.

"God damn it!" Kyle yelled. He stood up from his bed. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH HIM YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!"

"...Wh-what?" Ike said from the hallway.

"Shit..." Kyle said. "Umm, nothing Ike! Just go make some of those pizza bite thingies for dinner and I'll be right down!"

"...Okay..." Kyle heard footsteps going through the hallway and down the stairs.

Kyle laid face down on his bed with his face pressed hard against his pillow.

"Fuck! God fucking damn it!" Kyle screamed into the pillow. Suddenly, he felt dizzy. He looked up from his pillow and his bedroom was spinning. Before he knew it, sleep took over his body.

-----------------------------------

The next morning, everything seemed normal. In fact, Kyle wondered if he had just dreamed the whole thing about going insane and killing Tweek. He got up from his bed, not bothering to make it because he wasn't under the covers anyway, and headed off to the shower.

As Kyle looked in the bathroom mirror, he noticed he still had all of his clothes on from yesterday, even his hat. He yawned and took his hat off, letting his wild red curls fly everywhere. Kyle scratched his head and examined his face in the mirror. He looked like shit. There were bags under his eyes and they were bloodshot from crying all night. _"I must've just been crying because of that sick dream..." _Kyle thought. He turned away from the mirror to turn the shower on and undressed. The minute he stepped into the hot water, he felt a little bit better. There was just something about taking a shower in the morning that made him feel really good.

Kyle got out of the shower and dried off. He put the towel around his waste and started examining his face in the mirror again. He looked a little bit better after his shower. He was more awake. For a split second, Kyle thought he saw a strange light in his eyes. He moved his face closer to the mirror to see what it was. He was to the point now that his nose was almost touching the mirror.

"BOO!" his reflection screamed at him. Kyle was terrified. He jumped back and ended up slipping on the tiles because his feet were still wet.

"Fuck!" Kyle yelled, rubbing the back of his head. "Ouch! God damn it! That fucking hurt! What the hell was that?"

Kyle slowly got up from the floor and looked back at the mirror. He didn't see anything strange. Just him.

"Hmm..." he said. "Must've just been my imagination, I guess..."

Kyle got dressed and went downstairs where Ike was watching the news and eating cereal in the living room.

"Hey, Ike," Kyle said. "Anything interesting on T.V.?"

"Shhh!" Ike said without turning his attention from the television.

Kyle got a bowl from the cupboard and filled it with Cheerios, and went to the fridge for some milk. However, there was none in there. He looked over at Ike sitting on the couch, who had a bowl filled almost to the top with milk and hardly any cereal, and a huge glass filled to the top with milk.

"God damn it, Ike!" Kyle said. "Why do you always have to have that much milk in the morning? Now I have to eat my cereal dry and--"

"Would you stop your bitching for two seconds?" the nine-year-old yelled. "I'm watching the news!"

Kyle mumbled a few profanities and took his bowl of cereal and no milk to the living room. He sat down next to Ike on the couch and started eating the very dry Cheerios one by one. Kyle decided not to get angry at his adopted brother, and instead turned his attention to the television. The news anchor was apparently talking about Tiffy, the tennis playing hamster.

"--and that cute little furball just keeps on playing his little heart out! In other, more serious news, a resident of South Park was found dead this morning in his home. Fourteen-year-old Tweek Tweak died last night from what police are guessing was a drug overdose. The young man--"

Kyle had just choked on his dry Cheerios. He was coughing so horribly that Ike actually turned away from the T.V. to look at him.

"Wh-what!" Kyle yelled inbetween coughs. "SHIT! NO! This can't be happening!"

"What are you talking about?" Ike asked.

Kyle coughed a little bit more, and then looked at his brother who was sitting right next to him.

"Ike," he said once his choking fit had ceased. "Y-you wouldn't tell anyone if I did something...something really bad, r-right?"

"...What did you do?" Ike asked. He didn't want to beat around the bush. He wanted to get right to it.

"I mean, we _are_ brothers and everything, right?" Kyle said, ignoring Ike's question.

"Kyle, what did you do?"

"A-and, you know that if you ever did something but it really wasn't your fault at all that I would never even think about turning you in and--"

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!" Ike yelled.

"Ike, I-I...I think I might be insane..." Kyle started. "I-I did something really...not good..."

Ike just looked at him.

"But it wasn't really me!" Kyle continued. "It was this other part of me that's totally evil! He's evil, Ike! He won't stop until they're all dead!"

"Until _who's_ all dead?" Ike asked.

"Everyone! Anyone who's ever pissed me off, evenjusta little! Craig, Token, Stan, even you, Ike!"

"Kyle...tell me what you did."

"I-I-I...I k-... I killed Tweek!"

Ikecontinued tostare unblinkinglyat Kyle for what seemed like forever.

"Y-you _killed_ somebody?" he finally said.

"It wasn't really me, Ike! You've gotta believe me!"

Kyle tried to hug Ike, but Ike backed away.

"Ike! You know I'd never kill anybody! Please! If you don't believe me, then who will?"

Ike slowly got up and put his unfinished cereal on the coffee table.

"Ike, y-you won't t-tell anybody, right?" Kyle asked, now crying.

Ike just stared down at Kyle. Then he walked out of the living room and up the stairs to his room, not saying anything. Kyle wasn't worried, though. Ike didn't have a phone in his room.

_"Now we have to kill him,"_ Kyle heard in his head. _"You don't go around telling people that you're a murderer, you fucking asshole!" _

"Why are you calling _me_ an asshole?" Kyle said outloud. "And _I'm_ not the one who killed him! _You_ are!"

"We have to kill him!" Anti-Kyle repeated, now outside of Kyle's body as well.

"No! You're not going to touch my fucking brother, you sick fuck!"

Kyle felt the feeling in his body start to leave, just like at Tweek's house.

"NO! NO YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" Kyle yelled. "DON'T DO THIS!"

Kyle looked at the stairs, and noticed that Ike had come back down and was sitting at the foot of stairs staring at Kyle.

"IKE!" Kyle cried. "Ike, you have to run! Run, Ike!"

"No, Ike! Just stay there, I have to tell you a secret," Anti-Kyle said.

Now Ike was completely confused. He didn't know what to do.

"Just run, Ike! Don't fucking listen to him--me! I'm crazy, Ike! I'm crazy, now run!" Kyle screamed. It was the last thing he was able to say before his dark side took over completely.

Ike shot up from the bottom step and started running to the door. Anti-Kyle saw this and raced after him.

_"Run, Ike!" _was all that Kyle thought as this maniac ran after his little brother. Unfortunately for Ike, Kyle was much taller than him and had much longer legs, meaning that he could also run a lot faster.

Before Ike could reach the door, Anti-Kyle had caught him. He held on to the struggling boy. Ike kicked him in the shin, actually making him bleed.

"Now that hurts me, Ike," Anti-Kyle said calmly. "You don't want to hurt your brother, do you?"

"You're not my brother!" Ike yelled. He struggled even more, but Anti-Kyle had him in a sort of bear hug. Ike couldn't move his arms, and Anti-Kyle had lifted him into the air so that his feet couldn't touch the ground. "Let me go, you son of a bitch!"

"Harsh words, Ike," Anti-Kyle said. "That really hurts my feelings," he smiled.

"Let me go!" Ike screamed.

"No, I don't think I will," Anti-Kyle spun Ike around so that he was facing him. He didn't look anything like Kyle anymore. His hat had fallen off, and Kyle never let anyone see his awful curly, red hair. His eyes were completely different. They had this evil glint in them. And that smile...that smile was the most evil thing Ike had ever seen. This was not his brother.

"You're not Kyle!" Ike screamed. "Let me go! Leave Kyle alone! I hate you!" Ike struggled to free himself from this...this..._thing's_ grasp. He kicked his legs as hard as he could, and finally connected one of his feet with Anti-Kyle's groin.

"FUCK!" Anti-Kyle screamed. He dropped Ike. The little boy landed hard on the ground, but he got up quickly. He looked over and saw a pen on the coffee table. Ike ran to it and grabbed it.

Anti-Kyle was on his knees with his eyes closed. Ike tried to make a run for the door with the pen still in his hand, but Anti-Kyle grabbed his ankle and he fell to the ground again.

"Now that _really _hurt me, Ike!" Anti-Kyle said. "And I know that you want to apologize, so why don't you do that right now, and I won't make this as painful for you!" he got up, still holding on tight to Ike's ankle, and started to drag him to the kitchen. Ike screamed and kicked, but Anti-Kyle ignored him. He didn't notice the pen in the boy's hand.

"Let's see here..." Anti-Kyle said once they were in the kitchen. "What can I use to dispose of little Ikey here?" he was still smiling that evil smile. He dragged Ike a little further into the room and opened up a drawer. "Oooh! Why, Ike, would you take a look at all of these sharp knives? There are quite a few of them! Which one do you like the most?" he laughed at the look of terror on Ike's face.

"God damn it! Let me go!" Ike said for what seemed like the hundreth time. He started kicking his free leg around, but Anti-Kyle didn't seem to care. He continued looking through the drawer full of knives.

"I think I like this one," he said, looking in the drawer with his finger on his chin like he was thinking really hard. He was about to reach in when Ike took action.

Ike used all the strength that he had in his stomach to sit up while Anti-Kyle still held his leg in the air. He clutched the pen in his hand so hard that his knuckles were turning white. Ike yelled and lunged forward. The pen stuck straight into Anti-Kyle's thigh. This surprised him so much that he actually let go of Ike's ankle and the boy ran for it. He finally reached the door and ran outside, screaming.

Anti-Kyle looked away from the door that was still opened, and down at his thigh. He finally realized what had happened, and touched the wound gingerly.

"OUCH! FUCK! Look what your little brother did!" he yelled.

_"You deserved it, you sick fuck!" _Kyle said inside of his head. _"You were trying to kill him! See what happens when you mess with people, you asshole! Now get the fuck out of my brain and leave my brother alone!"_

"No, that's okay," Anti-Kyle said. He slowly started to pull the pen out of his thigh. Blood began gushing out even faster than it already was, and it made a sickening squishing noise as it came out. Anti-Kyle smiled and looked at the blood covered pen in his hands. There was blood all over the pen, all over his leg, and now all over his hand. He lifted his hand to his mouth, licked it, and smiled.

"Haha! I never thought that little fucker actually had it in him!" he said, now thinking that the situation was funny. There was blood all around his mouth. "Well, I'll get him worse, you watch."

_"No you won't!"_ Kyle yelled inside his head again. "_I'll stop you! You just wait! I'll fucking stop you!" _

Kyle fought as hard as he could to gain control of his body back, but Anti-Kyle didn't seem to have to fight back at all.

"Don't you get it, Kyle?" he said. "I'm stronger than you now! _I _control _you _now! Not the other way around! You see how it feels? See how it feels to not have control of anything? I'm Kyle now. You're nothing!" and with that Anti-Kyle threw the pen on the ground and took the huge knife he had been looking at out of the drawer. He started to follow the direction Ike had gone, but with a limp.

-----------------------------------------

By this time, Ike was almost to Stan's house. He could hardly breathe and his lungs felt like they might explode, but he kept on running. He finally made it to Stan's, and didn't even bother knocking. There were no cars in the driveway and Stan's window was open with music blasting out of it, so Ike knew that he was there.

Ike ran up the stairs to Stan's room and practically busted the door down. Stan just looked at him from his computer desk in shock. He turned his stereo down when he realized that Ike was trying to talk.

"S-Stan!" Ike cried. "Kyle's crazy! H-he tried to-to k-kill me!"

"Ike, what are you talking about?" Stan said, not quite believing him.

"Kyle! He tried to kill m-me! But it wasn't really Kyle! It was like he was possessed or something! Please, Stan! You've gotta help me!" Ike fell to his knees with his face in his hands and started crying. He recoiled, though, when he noticed the blood on his hands that was now on his face. Stan noticed this, too.

"I-Ike?" Stan said. "Who's blood is that?"

Ike looked into Stan's eyes. He looked like he was going to cry, too.

"It's Kyle's," Ike said more clearly. "But I had to do it! He was going to kill me! I stabbed him in the leg with a pen and ran here! Kyle killed that kid on the news! Who was it...umm...god damn it! Who the hell was it? TWEEK! KYLE KILLED TWEEK!" Ike screamed.

"Kyle...k-killed...Tweek? He killed him? Ike, are you sure? You have to be absolutely sure!" Stan was shaking now. He ran to Ike, who was still on the floor, and put an arm around him. Ike sobbed into Stan's shoulder.

"Stan, he tried to kill me too!" Ike cried, but it was muffled as his face was still pressed against Stan's shoulder. "H-he said that th-the other side of him wouldn't stop until we're all d-dead! All of us! E-even you, S-Stan!"

"Kyle wants to kill me?" Stan asked, still holding the boy in his arms.

"No! N-not Kyle! The o-other one! He's not Kyle! He t-took over K-Kyle! It's his evil s-side! Kyle is i-insane!"

"Oh my god...Ike...Ike is he following you? Will he follow you here?"

"I-I dunno! I don't think he knows where I am! He was t-too surprised th-that I stabbed him to n-notice me running away!"

Stan let go of Ike and went across his room to his bedroom window. He looked down the street and saw him. Kyle was walking towards Stan's house with a strange limp, clutching his left thigh with one hand, a huge knife in the other. He didn't have his hat on and Stan couldn't remember the last time he had seen him without his hat. There was blood all over the boy. It was soaking through his pantleg, on his hands, his jacket, and even his face. He looked up and noticed Stan staring at him. His scowl instantly changed into an evil grin.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Omigosh! My first cliffey...sort of! lol. Sooo...Again, if you are confused about ANYTHING, just ask me and I will explain it. I HATE it when people are confused and they refuse to ask questions! For some reason, that just pisses me off. Ok, I'm done with my rant. Again, this is my first fanfic, so I guess if you wanna flame, feel free. Constructive critisizem is appreciated:-D


End file.
